


Break Room

by capalxii



Series: Longer prompt fills [5]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Gags, M/M, Office Sex, submissive!Malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capalxii/pseuds/capalxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt from anonymous tumblr user: "Malcolm and Julius ( sex fic ) Julius taking charge of an angry , fighting Malcolm."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Room

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who may be concerned: it's hidden sort of in the middle of the fic, but there's a safeword/safe noise that could be deployed if it had been needed.

There was really only one way to handle this sort of thing. Malcolm had been on a rampage all day, picking fights and shouting at whoever he felt might fight or shout back, gunning for trouble and creating his own mayhem when he thought there wasn’t quite enough. Not so much that he’d actually cause any real problems for anybody who mattered, but just so much that he’d make people miserable.

It was when he’d begun shouting at Jamie—the terrifying but loyal bulldog of a man who had no idea what to do with this turn of events, besides threaten to glass Malcolm or Glenn or the nearest fax machine in retaliation—that Julius had decided to intervene. He enjoyed calm and compromise, and he was happiest when things were going smoothly, and Malcolm was doing everything in his power to strip that out of Julius’s day.

That’s how they found themselves where they found themselves, locked in a cupboard, a broken chair jammed under the door handle just in case the lock failed. “This is what you were looking for, isn’t it?” Julius asked.

Malcolm had nothing to say. Or rather, he had no way to say it, with his necktie balled up and shoved in his mouth, a bit of packing tape holding it in place. Bent over an old desk, cheek pressed against cool metal, Malcolm didn’t even so much as move as Julius wrapped Malcolm’s belt around his wrists and forearms. That same belt had left quite a bit of red on his pale skin, skin that felt hot as Julius pressed against him; the soft, barely scratchy wool of his slacks against Malcolm’s raw heated flesh must have felt exquisite, though he wasn’t sure whether it was an exquisite pain or exquisite pleasure, and Malcolm sighed as Julius leaned into him. It felt good enough to Julius, at any rate, his cock thickening and growing heavy as he finished trussing Malcolm up.

It wasn’t as though they did this every day; normally, they ranged from barely speaking to each other, to quick handjobs between meetings to let off steam, and only occasionally, when Malcolm was feeling slightly more human, they had dinner and went home and made love, properly made love, before falling asleep. This—Malcolm's trousers pooled around his ankles, his cheeks wet from the snap of his own belt against his skin, one of Julius’s hands wrapped around his bound wrists and pressing them into the small of his back while his other hand was busy undoing his fly and pulling out his cock—this wasn’t normal. But it was what Malcolm needed, and what Julius had to do to deal with whatever was going on in Malcolm’s head, and there was a reason they always made sure a small tub of petroleum jelly happened to be in this particular cupboard. It would still hurt with no prep, but that was what Malcolm wanted when they did this, the pain and the sudden stretch, and though Julius would go slower than he’d normally like he knew he would relish the way Malcolm came apart. “Are you ready?”

Malcolm managed to nod—and then he was clenching his eyes, gasping around the gag as Julius pushed in. Oh, he’d have to work harder this time, Malcolm tried to buck against him, to push up against the desk and squirm his way out, until Julius put a hand on his neck and held him in place. He’d only stop if Malcolm tapped his shoe against the desk three times, but as of yet he’d never had to—he’d been able to fully enjoy the slicked up tight heat around his cock, the feel of Malcolm struggling against him as he slowly fucked him, making things worse for himself and better for Julius as he gave himself permission to fight. That's all he wanted, really, a place to fight and to be pushed down. A forearm, then, against his shoulder blades, as Julius pressed his whole weight against Malcolm, stopping him from moving almost entirely.

It was probably for the best that it never took long when Julius was in this position; he didn’t really want to hurt Malcolm, no matter what Malcolm thought he might be able to take. He just wanted to make sure he knew his place. By the time Julius came, buried as deep as he could get inside of Malcolm, he was distantly, vaguely certain that Malcolm knew that place, as he was quiet and still beneath him.

Julius gave himself thirty seconds as he pulled out. Then, the tape came off his mouth, the tie fished out after it, and he began to methodically unwrap the belt. Malcolm barely moved through all of it until Julius stepped back to sort himself out. Julius Nicholson was a cuddler, when you got down to it, and there was nothing he wanted more than to reach out and hold Malcolm close to him, but he knew how Malcolm got and that he’d need some time alone first. Tucking himself back in his trousers (he’d need a moment to clean up in the bathroom, but it could wait), he asked, “Will you be by for dinner tonight?”

Malcolm was still leaned against the desk, his arms under his head, his shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. “Yeah,” he rasped out. “I’ll be—yeah.”

“I’ll have Marie make your favorite,” Julius said.

He stood slowly, blinking and staring at nothing, looking half sore and worn as he braced against the desk and pulled his slacks up. “Thanks. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, as always.”

“Julius-” He stopped, frowning. “Thank you.”

He knew what Malcolm meant. With a soft smile, he said, “I’ll see you tonight,” and left, closing the door behind him.


End file.
